Short Story Erotica Free Novelas e Histórias

We climbed in and stretched out, champagne flutes in hands and I wondered if life would ever get any better than this. We chatted and drank and played footsie until the bottle was half empty and the water had cooled to the point where we wanted to get out. I dried her with a big, fluffy white towel and she did the same for me, being very gentle around my genitals. I found the experience highly erotic and my penis rose to full strength as she dabbed at my balls and my buttocks. Taking her hand I led her to the bedroom and we kissed before getting onto the bed. 'I want to touch you,' she said, and I rolled onto my back as she knelt over me.

I was already soaked, my pussy lips were swollen and slick. He watched every move I made. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, it was thick and hard. The head was already wet with precum, he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking slowly. “Tell me what you wrote,” he said. I kept rubbing my clit in small circles. My breath came faster. “I wrote about a man coming in after closing. He bends me over the desk, he pulls my skirt up and fucks me hard.” He stroked faster. “Keep going.”

Her legs trembled, and she gripped the edge of the desk tighter. Professor Kane added a third finger, stretching her more. He fucked her with his hand, the palm slapping against her clit with every thrust. Sara moaned louder, not caring if anyone outside might hear. The pressure built fast. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, and she came hard within minutes. Her body shook, and her juices squirted a little, dripping down her thighs and onto the floor. He did not stop. He pulled his fingers out, and she heard the sound of his zipper. Then the thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance. He rubbed it up and down her slit, coating himself in her wetness, before pushing in deep in on

Ellie was trapped in her erotic dream, and in it, the love of her life was stroking inside her while kissing her shoulders and neck. It sent tingles down to her toes and clit. In the dream, his manhood was thick and hard, filling her to the brim; her pussy was wet and hot, stuffy like the South American jungles; her breathing was quick and shallow in her dream. Oh, what a lovely dream... or was it?

The assigned text, Bataille’s Erotism, was a descent into philosophical darkness. It spoke of the sacred and the profane, of violence as a gateway to ecstasy, of transgression as a necessary rupture of the mundane world. Elara read it in her small apartment, her body still sore and marked from the last session, the words resonating in her bones. She understood, now, that her thesis was not merely an academic exercise. It was a lived experience, a mapping of her own violation and transcendence.

One message: “Lavatory. 1 hour. Door unlocked.” I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I typed back: “Make it 45 minutes.” I hit send. He didn’t reply. But when I glanced forward again, he was smiling—just a small, dangerous curve of his lips. I spent the next forty-five minutes edging myself under the blanket—slow circles on my clit, fingers dipping inside, stopping every time I got close. My pussy was swollen, aching, dripping. My thong was useless now—sodden, pushed to the side.

“Is that all?? You can go ahead.” Naomi walked to the bookshelf and bent down. Her skirt lifted high, showing him the blue lace stretched over her ass. She dragged her finger slowly across the spines. “You have a nice collection,” she murmured, pulling one free. She flipped the pages, pretending to read. “Romance.” Her eyes flicked back to him. “Do you have something raw? Something erotic?” "Is that what you want to read?" Raymond asked. "Yeah," she replied. "I love reading erotic stories."

No foreplay was required in this ecstatic world of perfection, and penetration was effected in a single snag-free glide. Tumbling back to reality, and almost falling off his stool in the process, Elliot sighed with regret. He really loved the ‘hotel room’ fantasy, although he had to admit it wasn’t entirely all his own work. The protagonists - Diamanda and himself — were his choice of course, but the scenario, the setting and the nitty-gritty of the bedroom action came straight from one of the lady’s own stories, The Spider's Web, which was all about a beautiful, sexually voracious woman who picked up young men in bars and lured them to hotel rooms to fuck them.